


Someone Else’s Story

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry’s looking for a happy ending for his mother, but he never expected to find one for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Henry James Mills, you may be the Author, but it is still a school night!”

 

Standing in the doorway to the reading room, Regina looked like some statue to motherhood—hands flat on her hips, head tilted to the side, a decided scowl on her face from the better part of an hour spent playing phone tag and running around town to track her son down. It all evaporated into exasperated fondness, though, as she came down the landing to the writing desk where Henry had a leather-bound book spread open to near the end.

 

“Mom, I’ve saved your life, _and_ I think I’m a little old for a curfew—“

 

Regina’s expression soured again. “If you tell me Emma said that…”

 

“No… not yet… but you’ve got to admit; saved your life.”

 

“Oh? So then you’re ready to cook your own food, pay your own rent, earn your own wages, clean the house, do the dishes—“

 

“I do sweep up at the pawn shop.”

 

“It’s a pawn shop, dear, it’s supposed to be dirty. Try dusting a mansion.”

 

Henry shrugged. “You could’ve magicked yourself a duplex.”

 

Regina grumbled to herself. If she was just a little less self-aware, she could’ve at least blamed Emma for his smart-aleckness instead of realizing he got his sarcasm from her. “I also turned quite a few people into a cleaning service. That’s foresight: like going to bed early when you know you have school in the morning.”

 

“Five more minutes,” Henry responded, as was customary. “I’ve nearly finished this shelf and if I just get done checking this book…”

 

Regina pulled up a chair. _Only,_ she reasoned, _because he gets his OCD from me and not Emma ‘A Chair Is Part Of My Laundry System’ Swan. It’s not like I’m a pushover or anything._ “What are you trying to find, anyway? You know I don’t like you gallivanting off to the Apprentice’s house when there’s an unsavory element afoot.”

 

“Mom, c’mon, you said it yourself, the Untold Stories are harmless.”

 

Regina grimaced. Why was it teenagers only actually _listened_ when it was something they could use against you? And why was it all of Hyde’s groupies had turned out to be more… _bad neighbors_ than villains? The worst thing Hyde had done was sunbathe nude in his own backyard. Annoying, but not really the sort of thing anyone had to sacrifice themselves to stop.

 

“Harmless or not, I still don’t like losing track of you. And please don’t try to put me off by getting me to rant about our little melting pot of a town.”

 

Henry sighed—not the only one who could be like a dog with a bone when it came to something triggering their spider-sense. “It’s these books… they’re not _the_ Storybook, but they’re not just books either.”

 

“Alright,” Regina said gamely. “So what are they?”

 

Henry didn’t look up from the pages as he flipped through them, frantically scanning. “I think they’re other stories, real stories, from other worlds. Or other collections of worlds. Like a _different_ Enchanted Forest and a _different_ Storybrooke.”

 

Regina’s brow furrowed. “Another Snow White. Wonderful…”

 

“Yeah, but maybe _that_ Snow White is evil, like the one from the Author’s story. Or, uh… like the page you found of you and Robin meeting at the tavern, back in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

Regina felt her heart clutch, almost more at the apologetic look Henry gave her than at the mention of _his_ name. Was it really that bad, her suffering that obvious, that even Henry was aware of it? He was growing into a perceptive young man, it was true—the Author—but had she lost even the appearance of fortitude?

 

Did everyone know how much it hurt?

 

“Henry, it’s magic. It’s unpredictable. And the magic of the Author is particularly powerful, particularly _unstable_ magic. Remember why you vowed not to use the Pen? For all we know, all these stories are just… who knows? Records of dreams a person had, or something that could’ve been if a thousand things had happened differently. I doubt you’d get anything relevant to us from them.”

 

“I’m not looking for research. I’m looking for a possibility. Even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing.”

 

Regina exhaled softly and still felt like her lungs were closed up so tight that her breath had to be dragged over hot coals before it got out. Believe in happy endings, Regina. You deserve to be happy, Regina. You’re a hero, Regina.

 

Possibilities weren’t as powerful as reality. And the reality was that Regina could never be forgiven for what she’d done. Not by herself and not by the universe.

 

“It’s been a long few years. A good few years. I think everyone who’s going to get a happy ending has gotten one.” There. That was as much as Regina could say without screaming.

 

Henry tapped the book like it was an equation he’d written proving her wrong. “There are a lot of stories where you’re _always_ the Evil Queen, and you get an unhappy ending. Or where you’re always a hero and you have a happy ending with Daniel.”

 

“Henry, that’s enough,” Regina said. She didn’t want to be angry with her son, but more than that, she didn’t want to be sad. Not now. Not yet. Plenty of time for that later, when she had sleep to drink her tears.

 

Henry pressed on like he hadn’t even heard her. “And there’s stories where you have a happy ending with Robin Hood. So if you can be happy with Robin instead of Daniel, why can’t there be someone else for you?”

 

“Because there just can’t!” Regina snapped, and had to force herself calm, even had to force her magic to withdraw from where she’d summoned it up throughout her body. Her temper was always so fast, and it only got faster when she had nothing else to feel. “Henry,” she continued, sounding insincere but at least not sounding furious. Or overcome. “I don’t need true love to be happy. I have you. I have friends. I have… something of a family now. I know that my father and mother and, and Daniel are in a better place. I know that people have forgiven me for what I’ve done. I’m respected… and I think I have as much love as I can handle. I am so much happier now than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t need anything else.”

 

“But you deserve it,” Henry insisted.

 

“That’s not how stories go,” Regina reminded him gently, reaching out to rub his cheek. “Not in our book. Now if you’ll put that back?”

 

Henry quickly checked his watch. “I still have one minute, forty seconds.”

 

Regina sighed and stood. “I’ll go start the car. And if you’re not out of this house in exactly two minutes, you can eat your _other_ mother’s cooking.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Henry replied, immersed in the book again, spending every second finishing up.

 

Regina rolled her eyes—no one to blame but herself—and headed out.

 

He was a good kid. Better than she deserved. And she didn’t need anyone else. The two of them against the world.

 

It wouldn’t get lonely.

 

***

 

Fallen from her horse and scrambling now, the knight was only stopped in her haste by the actual sight of her beloved. The glass coffin around her Regina shone in the midday sun like a diamond, reminding the knight of how impenetrable the curse that had befallen her truly was. But the coffin was only glass, she reminded herself, and the curse was only a curse.

 

She was panting, exhausted, but the torpor with which she approached the coffin was born of trepidation, not exhaustion. Would it work? True Love’s Kiss? After all they’d been through, all the spiteful words and rivalrous deeds, could their connection have truly blossomed into love, or was it just some quirk of their loins? The knight had to believe that the warmth she felt for Regina was returned, not just wholly her own fancy.

 

She reached the coffin, now seeing her own reflection in the glass lid, and spared a moment’s amusement at just how she looked, bloodied and battered and absolutely covered with sweat, not to mention how dinged and dirtied her armor had become as she fought her way through the Mad King’s forces. She could just imagine Regina tsking at her as soon as she came awake—assuming it worked.

 

She could’ve gone to clean herself, but she found that for all her apprehension, she could not waste another moment. She had to have Regina back. More than that, she had to know. Was it real, what they had? Did Regina, for all her bluster, for all her wounded defensiveness, for all her infuriating, hilarious cynicism—feel as she did?

 

She threw the lid over, breaking the latch clean off by main force, then stooping to Regina. The closer she drew, the more impossible it was to discern Regina’s stillness. Her curse became mere sleep, her silence serenity. It was just as if Regina had fallen asleep after a night of kisses, and now the knight had a stolen moment to see the peace she’d brought to her heart.

 

Nervousness bloomed in her. Not the anxiety over the curse, but the same old fears as ever. What was she doing? Did Regina love her? Was she making a fool of herself? Would Regina reject her, scorn her, betray her?

 

They had kissed many times before. This was not the apex of those, not the ultimate, but seemingly every kiss at once. With all their hesitance, all their anxiety—and all of their eventual bloom. Emma’s lips met Regina’s in slow, almost courtly grace. Electric with needy passion, a lust not for Regina’s body, but to show Regina what it was she meant to her.

 

The kiss deepened. Emma felt Regina in those lips, felt the slow and aching storm of her under the placidity. She chose to believe that this was the woman she loved; she willed it, she believed in it, she trusted and had faith in it. _I love her. She loves me._

It was possible nothing could’ve failed to answer the passion of that kiss. Not stone, not metal, and certainly not Regina. Her lips parted, her arms opened, and she embraced the kiss as she embraced Emma, her resting place suddenly a marriage bed beneath them.

 

“I never had any doubt,” Regina breathed.

 

“Yeah,” Emma grinned back at her. “Probably thought I couldn’t do better, huh?”

 

“Oh, you certainly could. But not before I’ve scrubbed some of this _grime_ off you…”

 

Emma snapped her fingers. “Second thing you say to me after coming back from the dead…”

 

Regina kissed her again. There was only so much chit-chat she could take when Emma was on top of her and neither of them had the excuse of being in a coma. “Not the first thing, though.”

 

“No. There’s hope for you yet.”

 

“And after all that, seems a bit redundant to have to say I love you. I mean, did you see the literal rainbow that shot out of our kiss?”

 

“It was nice,” Emma agreed. “But I’d still like to hear you say it.”

 

Regina smiled. She could certainly do that. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

 

“And I love you, Emma—shit, sorry, _Regina.”_

 

“Oh, no, I’ve seen you love yourself, you’re very good at it.”

 

“Regina Mills, I love you,” Emma reiterated. She swung herself out of the coffin, morbid as it was, and picked Regina up before she even had a chance to think of getting to her feet. “Now I do believe I’ll be taking you home. There’ll be a warm bath, a hot meal, and—oh yes—a wedding.”

 

For once, Regina Mills had nothing to say. But she had quite a lot to kiss, and she did, every step of the way back to Emma’s horse, as they began their first day of living happily ever—

 

***

 

From outside, Regina’s car horn blared. It wasn’t the cute little blart of Emma’s Volkswagen. Regina drove a Range Rover. She meant business.

 

Henry packed the book deep into his backpack. School night or no, he needed to read this from the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

“Would you like to come up?” her lady asked as soon as they were in the lobby of the townhouse, it being deserted at this time of night, inviting the bold question. “For coffee and also sex?”

 

Her eyes, gleaming before, now almost shone at the open, challenging directness of her own speech. And she, being a knight, decided to match her lady’s dropped gauntlet… if not exceed it.

 

“I’m not in the mood for coffee,” she said, stepping closer and closer, daring her lady to give ground that would not be given.

 

“Good sir,” her lady said warningly, beholden to custom as she was. “This is a public place. Anyone could—“

 

“Anyone _could,”_ the knight agreed. “But I _will.”_

She kissed her lady devilishly, moving a hand teasingly to grope her, but leaving it at her heart instead, knowing the delay would drive her lady wild. “Your heart’s racing… I think you like looking at me. And I know you like touching me. What else do you like? Could you like… tasting me?”

 

Her lady was on her knees almost before the knight could press her downward. And her hands were a frenzy on the knight’s belt.

 

 _Perhaps I should employ her as a squire,_ the knight thought, given how effectively she was being stripped of her armor…

 

***

 

Snow slammed the book shut.

 

She’d been respecting Emma’s laisse-faire approach to raising Henry, allowing him to keep a room in the Charming family loft that was devoid of Regina’s hygienic standards. Henry, not being a messy child, kept it tidy enough, but Snow still felt the need to do a _little_ squaring away. After all, enough dust and he could get allergies. Not to mention how she’d hate for his things to go missing or for something to stain.

 

It was on this little cleaning jog, which Snow found quite meditational actually, that she found the book making a distinct rectangle within his backpack. Naturally, she had examined it, finding not _the_ Storybook that she could’ve sworn was down on the kitchen table, but some kind of lower-s storybook. Naturally, she was keen to find out what it was, and had opened it to a random page.

 

She knew what it was now.

 

“Porn,” Snow said, as if recognizing an old enemy.

 

***

 

It was ladies’ night at Storybrooke’s local watering hole, and no one was less happy to have that turn into a roundtable discussion on pornography than Emma, although Belle and Ruby were close seconds. Snow, as ever, seemed quite immune to any social awkwardness this might provoke.

 

“So it’s a romance novel?” Emma asked, sipping her Mai Tai. “I mean, that’s weird, but I guess there’s worse stuff he could be into.”

 

“He shouldn’t be into anything!” Snow protested.

 

“Snow, c’mon, you’re telling me you never read V.C. Andrews or—okay, I guess you didn’t. I don’t even know how people find out about sex in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

“The birds told me,” Snow said. “They don’t have human lifespans—didn’t get that it was inappropriate.”

 

“I read about it in a book too,” Belle said.

 

“Granny told me everything. _Everything,”_ Ruby rued.

 

“Did they tell you if you got pregnant, you would end up feeding babies worms from your mouth?” Snow asked. “What am I saying—Emma, you’re alright with Henry consuming pornography?”

 

Emma groaned. “I suppose I should talk it over with Regina. But it’s _our_ business and _only_ our business. I don’t want this to become a town meeting just because Henry saw a boob.”

 

“Oh, there’s more than one!” Snow said.

 

“There usually are…”

 

Snow was already hauling the book from her tote bag. “Describing it would be bad enough, but there are illustrations--!”

 

“Okay, what is this, the Kama Sutra?”

 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Belle opined, staring professionally.

 

“Definitely not,” Ruby agreed.

 

Emma waved them off. “Honestly, I don’t see the difference.”

 

“Well, which would you rather find more inappropriate?” Snow asked rhetorically. “Me… _describing_ my naked body, or me stripping down and showing it to you?”

 

“That’s a very fine line, actually,” Emma said.

 

Ruby hastily finished her drink. “So are we voting or…?”

 

Snow slammed the book down on the table, opened it to a random passage, then flipped a few pages until she’d found a suspect line. “’You want so badly to be a good girl… but you’ve got such a bad pussy…’”

 

“Hunh, that old line,” Ruby said.

 

“And look, there’s a picture on the very next page--!”

 

Everyone craned their heads in.

 

“I think Dorothy and I tried that,” Ruby said.

 

“Rumpel and I _definitely_ tried that,” Belle said.

 

“I think it’s kinda artistic,” Emma said. “And this isn’t all— _stuff_ —is it?”

 

Snow waved her hand impatiently. “There are some dragons and swordfights and trolls…”

 

“Oh, so it’s one of those slice of life stories?”

 

“But there is also porn!” Snow concluded absolutely.

 

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” Emma asked. “It’s not like I can stop Henry from going to 99% of the internet!”

 

“Plus,” Ruby said, “I just can’t see you trying to _stop_ people from doing porn.”

 

“Star in it, maybe,” Belle said.

 

“Hey! Mean!”

 

“No, some of those porn stars are really good-looking,” Ruby said.

 

“Well, you can’t just do nothing!” Snow protested. “Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to rearing a child!”

 

Emma scratched her head. “I could’ve sworn I had a few more years of him being tiny and cute coming my way… okay, I suppose if he’s reading porn, it should at least be good porn.”

 

“ _What!?”_

“Not good like…” Emma made a gesture she instantly regretted. “More good like…” Emma looked to Ruby and Belle for help. “No one getting choked or slapped or gagging or crying—“

 

“How is that good porn?” Ruby asked. “Is there at least spitting?”

 

“No rapey stuff,” Emma said conclusively. “I don’t want some weird kid who jerks off to Criminal Minds.”

 

“What if,” Belle ventured, “a virginal Saxon princess offers herself to a Viking war chief to keep her village from being raided, but secretly, she’s been curious about how sensitive her blossoming body has become and drawn to the dark, mercurial man who seems haunted by a secret past…”

 

“Okay, super-specific,” Emma said.

 

“Not really,” Ruby said. “It’s Swelling Passions. Everyone’s read it.”

 

“’Swelling Passions’?”

 

“The town getting cut off by flying monkeys and ice walls really does a number on internet connections,” Belle explained. “I order a lot of urban fantasy novels. And Gia on DVD.”

 

“When the war chief says he’ll spare her village no matter what, but she insists he ravage her to keep her end of the bargain…!” Ruby excitedly recalled.

 

Snow groaned fondly.

 

“Okay, suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the town ruled by a woman who owns over a dozen corsets has some kink in it,” Emma said, mostly to herself.

 

“I seem to recall you checking out a few Anita Blake novels—“

 

“Hey!” Emma told Belle. “Don’t you have a vow of silence or something when it comes to this? And they were The Hollows.”

 

Snow ignored the growing discourse concerning her daughter’s masturbation habits to examine the book for, as Emma had said, rapeyness. There was nothing so far, just some spanking, and who wasn’t into that? Certainly not Ariel…

 

She came to another picture. “You know, she looks familiar…”

 

“Who?” Emma asked, coming around to the book. “The one with clothes or the one without?”

 

“The one without—I think that’s Regina!”

 

Ruby squinted at it. “It is!”

 

“Okay,” Belle said, “so I take it Henry was not reading the book for sex. Crisis averted!”

 

“Or he was,” Ruby pointed out. “Crisis much, _much_ bigger.”

 

“He wasn’t,” Emma told them in no uncertain terms. “So if that’s Regina, who’s the blonde? Maleficent? Tinkerbell?”

 

“Emma, isn’t that your necklace?” Belle asked.

 

“Where?” Ruby asked.

 

“Right there, between Regina’s teeth.”

 

“And that looks like your wrist tattoo?” Snow pointed out.

 

“ _Where?”_

“It’s right between Regina’s—“

 

Emma slammed the book shut and stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. “ALRIGHT! I have put up with a lot in this town. _A lot!_ It’s turned out that just about everyone I’ve ever known, cared about, or been related to, _is a fairy tale character._ I spent time as the Devil! I killed the villain of a movie about dogs! And I haven’t been able to buy a fashionable jacket in five years! _But I am drawing the line here!_ Look at this! There is a book the size of _Game of Thrones_ about me having sex with another woman! Look!” She flipped through the book. “It’s _copy-edited! There are illustrations! There’s an index!_ No. No, no, no. I’m done. The topic is closed, as far as I’m concerned, no one ever wrote more than two words about me and Regina fisting each other, _let alone a freakin’ epic!”_

She stomped off, stopping only to haul the door open and cry “’You want to be a good girl, but you’ve got such a bad pussy’!?!?” before she flung herself out into the night.

 

From the bar, Smee coughed. “So, uhh… you guys finished reading that book or…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story's canceled, everyone go home.


End file.
